


Dinner and Diatribes

by WantonLewdity



Series: Aidan's Girls [2]
Category: Actor RPF, Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Coercion, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face Slapping, Gratuitous Smut, Kinda?, Prostitution, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coercion, Smut, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, it's JUST fantasty but i'm tagging it anyway because u know be safe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantonLewdity/pseuds/WantonLewdity
Summary: An invitation to dinner turns into something much more grueling.





	1. Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be a fair bit darker than Awards Night, jsyk.

It was March of 2014, and the gruelling press tour for the fourth season of Game of Thrones had begun.

 

Emilia dropped herself face first onto her bed. After nine straight hours of pressers, the absolute last thing she wanted to do was go out for dinner, much less a big dinner with a bunch of cast members. Still, John and Alfie were sweethearts, and if they were both there, maybe she could sit between them as a buffer and get something approaching a quiet evening.

 

She kicked her shoes off without even looking, snickering to herself as she heard one clatter against the opposite wall. HBO had been nice enough to stick her up in the Dorchester for a night, so she should probably have a little bit more respect, but at the same time, fuck it. She pulled herself up to look in the standing mirror next to her bed. The green jumpsuit she’d picked out looked significantly less flattering than when she’d put it on that morning. Maybe she’d tart it up a bit for dinner. Not fully tits out, but maybe a little cleavage. Highlight them a little. Yeah. Yeah, that would work. A nice red lip too.

 

She shrugged her shoulders and let the jacket fall to the floor. How much did that cost again? Not her problem.

 

Emilia looked at herself in the mirror again. With the dumpy jacket off her, the jumpsuit looked a little better. It hugged her shoulders beautifully, actually. Maybe she wouldn’t have to change. She ran her hands up her sides, feeling her curves, all the way to her tits. Nine hours of press and no one made a pass at her. No one even stared at her chest. What was the point?

 

Her phone buzzed in her purse, still hanging from the back of the overly decorative desk chair. It was Alfie.

 

“ _ Hey, Em. John and I just got a call from Aidan, you know, Littlefinger? _ ” She rolled her eyes. No, she’d never seen an episode of the show she fucking starred in and had no idea who that was.

 

“Yes.”

 

“ _ Yeah well he lives here in London and he’s invited us over for dinner with him, just the three of us. Said we’re probably knackered after press today and could do with a quiet meal. _ ”

 

_ I could do with a quiet meal on my own thanks. _

 

“Yeah that’d be nice. Are we meeting there or going together or what?”

 

“ _ We can meet at his. John and I are gonna shower and watch the end of this movie and we’ll head over. I’ll text you his address?” _

 

“Sure, yeah. Sounds great. I’ll see you there.”

 

She tapped the hang up button, cutting Alfie off mid-goodbye.

 

Well, so much for her plan to find a guy and get laid in the loo then. Not that it had been much of a plan, to be fair. More of an inkling. Still, Aidan was good-looking. Real lecherous dad vibes, if she went for that sort of thing. She could still make the girls look nice and be a bit of a tease. Plus, if she left now, she’d have plenty of time alone with him before Alfie and John arrived.

 

Her phone dinged with the address, and she punched it into Google. Only a twenty minute taxi ride away. She could easily be there before either of them even finished showering. But what to wear? She reached up and undid the clasps on the shoulders, letting the top of the suit drop down, admiring her boobs in the reflection. She pinched one nipple as she eyed herself over, letting out the softest “ _ ah! _ ”. 

 

Right. Clothes. She turned her suitcase up on the bed, clothes spilling out. She tossed items aside as she went through the pile, searching for the right outfit. Jeans? No, too plain. A skirt? Hm, no, all the ones she’d brought were… not prudish, but along those lines. She let out a sigh as her hand came to something. Hold on. A pair of leggings? How had these ended up in her bag? They were cute, too. All black, a little sheen to them but not quite shiny. Red hatchet patterning. Oh yes, these were perfect. She thanked her past self’s carelessness at packing, and searched anew for a top. 

 

Ah! A burgundy tank that was cut a little too low for her day to day comfort. Pair that with a good bra and she could almost convince herself she had a pair of jugs. Or convince anyone else, for that matter.

She leaned in towards the mirror, scrutinizing her eye makeup. The blue eyeshadow really made her eyes pop. It could stay. The pink lips absolutely had to go though. She grabbed her makeup bag from where it had fallen when she upended her case and pulled out a lipstick wipe and her favourite deep red lipstick.

 

“I’d fuck me,” she told her reflection. “Would you?”

 

Satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her coat from where it hung and called herself an Uber.

 

~~

 

Twenty five minutes later, thanks to London traffic, Emilia stepped out of the car on Eagle Wharf Road. Looking around, she was struck with a single thought; this wasn’t at all the type of area she pictured an actor living in. Certainly not in London, at least. The whole street had an aura of… unsafety. An inexplicable aura of danger that she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find slightly arousing. She walked down the road somewhat, looking for a door or a buzzer. When she found it, she ran her finger down the list of names, looking for….

 

“Andrew Gilligan. Well, I suppose you can’t just have your whole name out here where anyone can see.”

 

She pressed the buzzer and waited a moment

 

“ _ Hello?” _

 

Even with one word, the Irish in his voice was positively dripping. Emilia had forgotten that was one of his best qualities.

 

“Hey, it’s Em.”

 

“ _ Ah! Right, come on in.” _

 

There was a low buzz and the door lock clicked.

 

The lobby area wasn’t much better than the street outside. It wasn’t dirty or grimy or anything, but it had the same pervasive aura of danger. If she were marginally less attracted to that, she might make some excuse and leave, but she pressed on, up a flight of stairs, to Aidan’s front door. She knocked gently, and a moment later, the door opened on Aidan’s smiling, stubbly, slightly disheveled looking face.

 

“Hi! Terrific to see you! Please, come on in!”

 

His apartment was…. Nice, actually. A beautiful open room, with one wall almost entirely windows through which the moonlight was gleaming. The kitchen was all black and impeccably spotless, save for a cutting board and pile of vegetables. As she took it all in, she felt Aidan’s hands on her shoulder.

 

“Can I take your coat?”

 

Suddenly Emilia felt self-conscious. She’d dressed like an absolute whore, and Aidan had invited her over for a meal at his home. What the  _ fuck _ had she been thinking? What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t leave, he’d ask questions or feel insulted.

 

She unbuttoned her coat, and closed her eyes as she shrugged it off her shoulders. He didn’t say anything. And then…

 

“Oh, wow.”

 

Her face went beetroot red.

 

“Listen, I can explain…”

 

Aidan held up a hand. “You don’t need to. You wanted to look good, and we’re just friends here tonight, so it was a good chance. I completely get it. You look amazing.”

 

Oh. That went better than it could have gone. He gestured towards the living room area for her to take a seat, and walked back into the kitchen.

 

“How was press today? John said you were there all day. Eight or nine hours, or something like that.”

 

“Huh?” Emilia looked around at him. Was he really asking about her day with her in his house dressed like this?

 

“The pressers. I know they can be rough.”

 

She nodded slowly. “Oh.. Yeah. Yeah, it’s long, is all. You end up saying a lot of the same things in three or four different ways because there’s only so many ways you can say ‘haha yeah this season is wild’, you know?”

 

He nodded. “Aye, yeah, I get that. Still, at least you get to do things. I have the luxurious privilege of,” he mimed flicking through a notebook, “‘being deliciously evil for no apparent reason and leering after a teenager’.”

 

She laughed. There was a reason, of course, but he wasn’t entirely off the mark. Beneath her laughter, she swore she’d heard him say something.

 

“Hm?”

 

He looked up at her from the vegetables he was cutting. “I said I’m sure you’d prefer if I leered at you instead.” He stared at her, all the warmth gone from his face. Emilia felt the same creeping sense of unease she’d felt outside on the street, and tried to fold her arms over her chest.

 

“You can always just rewatch the first few episodes,” she said, in an attempt to defuse the situation.

 

“Ah, yes.” He set the knife down. “What makes you think I haven’t? You are, after all, only famous because of those scenes.”

 

She felt her face go red again. He wasn’t wrong, but why did he have to say it like that. Her heart was pounding in her chest as he continued to stare at her, his eyes boring through her, staring at her like she was less than nothing.

 

“What? Do you not like me saying that?”

 

“No.” Her voice was small.

 

“No, you don’t like me saying that, or no, you do.”

 

“I.. I don’t….”

 

He walked towards her, his gait somehow equal parts sprint and glacial crawl. She felt trapped, though there was miles of room between them and she could easily make it to the door.

“You don’t seem very sure of yourself. I’m asking you a simple question. Do you or do you not like me saying you’re only famous for getting your tits out on television?”

 

“I don’t.” He came closer still. There was less room between them now, but if she booked it she could make the door before he could catch her, assuming he even tried. Yet, for whatever reason, she stayed absolutely still, transfixed on the man advancing on her.

 

“But here you are, tits practically out. You don’t seem to have a problem with it now, do you?”

 

He stopped in front of her. She’d squandered her chance of escape. She stared up at him, trying to sink into the couch, vanish from existence. Emilia found herself more terrified than she’d ever been in her life.

 

And yet, also more aroused.

 

“Why don’t you tell me what you want, Emilia? Tell me why you came here tonight. And remember, you have to be honest with me. I’d really hate to have to hurt you.”

 

Her breath trembled as she fought to form words, her voice shaky. She had no idea if that was a real threat, or if he was trying to coax her along.

 

“I want you to let me go.”

 

The slap rang out before she’d even seen him move. Her cheek smarted and she knew she’d have a bright red handprint there. She sat frozen in surprise for a moment, before pressing one hand to her now aching cheek. It was burning hot.

 

“Please don’t lie to me, Emilia.”

 

“I… I want to fuck.”

 

“Go on.”

 

“I- what? You told me to tell the truth and I did!”

 

Aidan shook his head. “You’re giving me a half truth. I want all of it. I want you to let the weight off your shoulders and tell me what exactly you want. Tell me why you came to my house for dinner looking like a high end streetwalker with your tits hanging out.”

 

A streetwalker. Is that what he thought? She looked down at herself, her tits heaving as she fought to control her breath. They were spattered with runny mascara, dripped from her face on tears she didn’t even realize she’d been having. Her legs squeezed into leggings that seemed a half size too small. Yeah. He was right. She did look like just… a whore.

 

“I… I want… to be fucked. Hard.”

 

“Continue.”

 

Emilia looked up at him, her eyes pleading. He looked down at her, unflinching.

 

“Please… I’ve never said it out loud before.”

 

Aidan stared at her, his eyes cold and dark. She felt shame wash over her, bringing fresh tears to her eyes and she withered under his gaze.

 

“I want… I want to be raped.”

 

As the words left her mouth, she broke into sobs. Aidan reached down and gently stroked her hair. She recoiled slightly from his touch, but leaned into it as she let her tears flow.

 

“I’d better call our friends, hm? Something has come up that absolutely needs my full attention.”

 

He walked away, leaving her sobbing on the couch, her chest heaving, shame filling her as her deepest secret hung in the air between them.


	2. The Locker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aidan reveals a side business.

“I don’t think you want to be raped at all.” Aidan’s voice pulled Emilia from her thoughts. He set his phone down on the counter. “John and Alfie won’t be coming. I’ve told them I have a family emergency and you’re helping me with it. As I was saying; I don’t think you want to be raped at all. I think you much prefer the shame of wanting it. The humiliation. The idea of being taken so roughly, the height of sexual violence, and finding pleasure in it? It must drive you mad.”

 

“Please stop.” Emilia’s voice was hoarse and dry. He was far more accurate than she’d like to admit, but she couldn’t let him just tear her apart like that.

 

“Have I struck a nerve?”

 

“No. No you’re just…. I have to go. I’m sorry, please, I have to go.”

 

Aidan stood aside. “You can go on one condition.”

 

Emilia leapt to her feet. “Yes! Anything! Please!”

 

He raised one eyebrow. “Anything. Really?” Emilia nodded vigorously at him. “Very well then. I want your top and leggings. Now.”

 

Emilia gawped at him. “But.. but.. I wouldn’t be wearing… just my underwear..” she spluttered as she ran over what he just said. “You… I can’t. No!”

 

“You said anything. This is something. Be grateful I’m not sending you out in the nude. You’ll have your coat. In the absolute worst case, someone will assume you’re wearing a short dress.” He eyed her up and down in a way that made her skin crawl and her nethers tingle. “Remember to keep your legs shut when you’re sitting though, or you’ll give someone a view. Should be a challenging task for a little streetwalker like you.”

 

Emilia blushed and turned away, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Why did she like it so much when he called her that? Twice now she’d gotten unreasonably warm. She took a breath and turned back to Aidan, who was looking at her with the most awful smile.

 

“Do you like it when I call you a little streetwalker, Emilia?”

 

She shuddered, her skin crawling right up her spine and up the back of her neck. Truthfully, she really enjoyed it. More than she could have imagined. But she had to stay strong. She couldn’t let him coerce her like this. All she had to do was play along until her let her go, and she’d be safe.

 

“I asked you a question.”

 

Emilia snapped back to him. His face was impatient.

 

“No. I don’t like it.”  _ I love it. _

 

“That’s a shame. I had hoped to be able to help you with that, but if that’s the case…” He shrugged lightly. “What’s there to be done. You can turn over your clothes and go. I’ll have them sent back over in the morning, and we’ll pretend this never happened.” He smiled, an ugly, hollow smile with nothing behind it. This had to be a trap of some kind. He knew she’d be curious. But she couldn’t.

 

All she had to do was take off her top and her leggings, and walk out the door with her coat. Any second now she’d do that. He was standing out of the way, a few steps back, even. She had all the room she needed. She just had to do it. Move.

 

“Help me with it how?”  _ No!  _ She stared at the hallway still, not making eye contact with Aidan, but she could feel some warmth enter his smile.

 

“How else do you help a whore?”

 

They sat in silence again, Emilia trying to process what was happening. Was he offering to pay her for sex? Was that what was happening? Or was there something more? As she sat on the couch, still unmoving, she noted that Aidan had yet to move either, standing in the same place he had been, well away from her, her path to freedom still wide open. Maybe this was a genuine offer after all, a way to explore some side of her she’d been repressing.

 

“Okay.”

 

He smiled at her again, but it wasn’t cold or menacing. It was almost full of endearment. She could tell before he spoke that she’d said the right thing, or at least the thing he wanted to hear. She rose to her feet and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, tugging it over her head. Aidan whistled his appreciation as her tits fell free.

 

“I haven’t even offered you money yet and you’re stripping down for me.”

 

She froze. “I thought you wanted me to do this anyway?”

 

“Relax, streetwalker,” he waved a hand at her, “I’m only making a joke.”

 

Emilia thumbed the waistband of her leggings as she kicked off her shoes. “Please stop calling me that.”

 

“Why should I? It’s what you are, isn’t it?”

 

“No. I’m an actress.”

 

Aidan scoffed. “You got paid to get naked on television, and now you’re famous because of it. The only difference between you and a whore is that a whore isn’t going to be famous. Don’t kid yourself.”

 

She looked down at her leggings, crumpled on the floor in front of her, then back up at Aidan, who had politely turned away. “Okay. My clothes are off.”

 

“Grand. Put your shoes and your coat on while I get these squared away.”

 

He scooped up the discarded top and bottoms and disappeared into a room down the hall, no doubt his bedroom. Emilia felt strangely more naked with her heels on than she had with them off. She wobbled over to the coat rack, grateful she’d brought a long one for the cold night. Aidan reappeared behind her, startling her slightly.

 

“You look wonderfully trashy.” He gestured at his front door. “Shall we?”

 

Emilia was puzzled. “I thought I was going back to the Dorchester?”

 

“Yeah, you were, until you wanted my help. Now, we’re going on an adventure to a little place down the street.”

 

A wave of cold fear washed over her. She’d been expecting him to offer her a twenty for a blowjob, or to feel her tits or something. Maybe pay her to flash someone on the tube. Where could he possibly be taking her? And what about the food he’d been preparing? Why that last thought entered her head, she’d never know.

 

Aidan, evidently impatient with her standing in fear, took her by the arm and dragged her out of the apartment. She all but tripped over her own heels, being already unsteady with her near-nudity and even more so with the near-terror in her veins. He locked the door behind them and looped his arm through hers, smiling at her.

 

“Away we go.”

 

~~

 

Their destination, it turned out, was barely a minute’s walk down the street. To Emilia, it felt like an hour long walk of shame. They passed a couple out for a walk, not unlike them. Aidan had smiled and bid them a good evening. The man returned it, and as they passed each other, she could feel his eyes traveling up her legs. Had he recognized her? Could he tell she had barely anything on but her coat? Her mind whirled so fast she barely noticed when they had stopped.

 

“A… self storage building? What are we doing at a self storage building?”

 

Aidan hushed her. “Let me do the talking. You’re here to look pretty.”

 

He walked her up to a security booth, where a bored-looking man was leafing through a magazine. The man looked up and grinned. 

 

“Ah! Good evening, Mr. Gilligan.” There were almost air quotes around “Gilligan”. Emilia wondered if he knew who Aidan was. “Very pretty girl you’re bringing tonight,” he added, nodding at Emilia. “I assume you’ll want a key left here for your, ah.. additional guest?”

 

“That’ll do, thanks, Jim.” Aidan fished a fifty pound note from his jacket pocket, and slid it under the window. “Do me a favour and close early tonight, yes?”

 

The man nodded eagerly. Clearly the pair of them had some kind of arrangement. Aidan tugged lightly on Emilia’s arm, and they entered the building.

 

“Okay,” her voice was barely more than a whisper, “what the  _ fuck _ are we doing?”

 

Aidan didn’t look at her. “Let’s just say I have more in common with Petyr Baelish than my rugged good looks.”

 

The cold fear about froze her in her tracks as his plan dawned on her. He was going to prostitute her. Whore her out like some common…. well, whore.

 

Aidan tugged gently on her arm. “You’ve figured it out, I take it? This is going to happen, Emilia. There’s already someone coming.” He looked deep into her eyes, past the fear, like he was speaking directly to her core. “We both know this excites you. You could have excused yourself at any point. But you walked on, and now here we are. Consider this a test of how far you’re willing to go to make me happy.”

 

“Make you happy…” She repeated the words absentmindedly. He wasn’t wrong. The thought of what was happening  _ did _ excite her. It would be safer with him than bending over in some club bathroom with prices scribbled on her ass. He could keep her safe while she did this. How different was it from what she did for a living, really?

 

He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, low enough and breathy enough that the goose flesh on her neck rippled. He let her go, and turned to the locker next to them. Pulling a key from his back pocket, he unlocked the shutter and lifted it up.

 

It wasn’t a very big locker. Eight feet by eight feet. But Aidan had obviously spent quite a bit of time customizing it, because it didn’t look anything like the plain cement locker Emilia expected. There was a carpet in the middle, red with gold trim. A bed in the middle of the back wall. Lights and candlesticks for various moods. A chest of drawers with each drawer labeled, though what they said, Emilia couldn’t see.

 

Aidan stepped inside and clicked a lamp on, beckoning her in after him. She sat on the edge of the bed, trying to pull her coat tighter around herself. Why the fuck was she here. What the fuck was she doing? Was she really about to have sex with a complete stranger for money? Money she wasn’t even getting? What if someone recognized her? What if she got blackmailed and forced into other things? What if she got  _ forced _ to sell herself to a bunch of people? Why was she down this particular train of thought, and why was it turning her on so much?

 

She must have been panting because Aidan turned to her with a gleam in his eye. “Now, now. Don’t go getting all flustered before Mister D even gets here. And please, take your coat off. Make it look like you’re staying for a little while.”

 

Emilia undid the buttons and shrugged the coat off her shoulders. She shivered as the cool air blew against her nearly-bare chest. Aidan stepped into a corner and clicked on a space heater. “Shouldn’t take you too long to warm up. It’s only a small space.”

 

“What if I get recognized?” The words blurted out of her mouth and she clapped a hand to her face in shock. She really thought she’d been more in control of herself. Aidan, to his credit, only smiled at her again. 

 

“That’s the whole point of what I do. Do you have any idea how much Mister D is paying to fondle some famous slut for an hour? The amount of money I make in a year from this? If I retired from acting I could still live very comfortably. Of course, I’d be out of the industry and I wouldn’t have contacts anymore, but that’s beside the point.”

 

Emilia sat in stunned silence. She knew this couldn’t be the first time, with the security guard and the furnished locker, but this was something else entirely. This was an entire business she’d somehow fallen into. The thought terrified her and aroused her in almost equal measure. Aidan glanced at his watch. “Ten-to. He’ll be here shortly. I thought we’d have a little more time than this, so I’ll be brief; call him sir, remember your pleases and thank yous, and your safeword is raspberry. Say it back to me.”

 

“Sir, please and thank you, raspberry.”

 

He inhaled sharply. “I could get used to you calling me sir. Give me your coat”

 

“What, why!?”

 

“You’re supposed to look like you’ve been waiting, not that you just jogged here from the Tube. Give me the coat.”

 

Reluctantly, Emilia stood and passed him her coat. This was as naked and afraid as she’d felt all night. Completely out of her depth and about to be groped by some strange lecherous pervert who was probably decrepit and smelled like death.

 

And yet, the thought wasn’t entirely unappealing.

 

Aidan stepped out of the locker and looked down the hall. He smiled at someone. “Ah! I was beginning to think you’d be late. Your lady  _ du jour  _ is right in here. I’m sure you’ll… enjoy her.”

 

Emilia’s breath quickened as the footsteps drew closer, heavy footfalls that spelled equal parts doom and immaculate pleasure.

 

She thought she might hyperventilate when he rounded the corner and she saw him for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmm I know this might not be to everyone’s tastes but... it’s to mine.
> 
> Also not to spoilers but I saw endgame again and you’re getting some nebula/nebula at some point.


End file.
